


rarely pure and never simple

by the_littlest_goblin



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Aro-Spec Essek Thelyss, Asexual Essek Thelyss, Blackmail, F/F, Gen, Implied/Discussed Relationships, M/M, Ships As Metaphors For Other Ships, Unrequited Love, Zone of Truth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26150647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_littlest_goblin/pseuds/the_littlest_goblin
Summary: For once, finally, she had the upper hand with him, and they both knew it.“Are you in love with Caleb?”
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett & Essek Thelyss, Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett
Comments: 31
Kudos: 321





	rarely pure and never simple

**Author's Note:**

> Posting just under the wire in case this gets jossed in tonight's episode. If Matt will not give me Essek content then I will make it myself.

They’d been home less than an hour before Jester announced she was going to send a message. It was the plan, they had discussed it, but Beau didn’t think they were going to do it, like, right now.

 _“Hey Essek, just checking in! We’re back, Travelercon went great, mostly, sort of. How are you, do you want to come over? We can talk_ about stuff, like, you know, have you committed any more treason since we’ve been gone, or whatever? _”_

“Shit, I forgot to count.” Fjord glared at his fingers like it was their fault.

“I think he got most of it,” Caleb addressed the ground. His posture had gone somehow even more slumped since the mention of Essek’s name, like the weight of what they knew had settled back down on him after weeks of not needing to deal with it.

“He says he’s going to come by!” Jester’s enthusiasm at the news wasn’t dimmed in the slightest by the knowledge that she was talking about a war criminal.

“Why are we even inviting him over?” Beau couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “What, are we just going to hang out in the hot tub again and pretend we don’t know what he did?”

“Obviously not,” Caleb shot back. “But we need to talk to him one way or another.”

Beau crossed her arms, but didn’t argue the point. Caleb was right, she just didn’t like all the friendly pretense.

TravelerCon, if nothing else, had provided a much needed distraction from the whole Essek/Cerberus Assembly/we-ended-the-war-now-what-the-hell-do-we-do situation. Hard to worry about an intricate political clusterfuck when you’re fighting wannabe gods a thousand miles away. Now that they were back on solid mainland, the giant question mark of the Mighty Nein’s next move hung in the air between them. Beau had some thoughts—everyone had some thoughts—but the only concrete thing they could come up with for right now was to check in with Essek and make sure he wasn’t dead, incarcerated, or gone off the deep end of evil. 

With the first two checked off, Beau was gearing herself up for disappointment on the third.

They waited less than ten minutes before there was a knock at the door. Remembering the length of the walk between the Xhorhaus and Essek’s towers, he must have dropped what he was doing and left the second Jester’s message finished.

Veth mage-handed the door open to reveal their guest, gliding and mantled in all his pompous glory. Looking closer, though, Beau could see the cracks in his visage: the bags under his eyes were more pronounced than ever, the swoop of his hair less lustrous than she remembered. And, if she wasn’t mistaken, there was something more than his usual faint amusement behind the smile he gave them all. A tension in his eyes, apprehensive and almost fearful.

Good. 

He floated in, and stayed floating as they all shifted into the sitting room. Still wearing his cloak, it was hard to tell if he was actually making contact with the cushion as he sat down, or hovering over it. Beau considered testing it by ‘accidentally’ bumping into him to see if the force sent him bobbing away like a balloon, but decided against it. 

“Welcome back,” he said once they were all settled, and it sounded genuine enough. “Tell me, how did your journey go? You all were gone quite a long time.”

“Aw, did you miss us, Essek?” Jester crooned. She leaned forward with her chin in her hands.

It took Essek a while to respond, his expression morphing through several stages before he said, “Yes, I did.” He paused. “Very much so.”

“So, what have you been up to?” Beau interjected. She didn’t worry about softening her brusqueness as she spoke to him. He could handle it. “Take care of those ‘loose ends?’’”

“I believe so. Time will tell.” 

“And what were they, exactly, if they weren’t people to kill?”

“Wait,” Veth cut off his answer. “How do we know you’re going to tell us the truth?” She passed her gaze over the group. “He’s lied to us plenty about this stuff.”

“I have no intention of lying to you about this.”

“How do we know _that’s_ not a lie, though?”

“I could punch him,” Beau offered, cracking her knuckles for emphasis. A smile curled over her lips as she pictured it. She’d wanted to punch his smug face since day one. Even when he was their friend, before everything got complicated, she’d still sort of wanted to. It was in her nature.

Essek’s eyes widened, but Jester cut in, “I could also cast Zone of Truth?” She pursed her lips, looking unhappy with the idea. “I don’t know, that feels kind of wrong. But you’d probably like that better than punching, right Essek?”

“Ah, if you are giving me the option, then yes, that would be my preference.”

“Do it, Jes.” Beau made sure she was looking Essek dead in the eye when she said it. “You can tell when people try to resist, right? So we’ll know straight off if he’s hiding something, even if it doesn’t take.”

Jester nodded, and began the motions of the spell.

“You should do your trick, Fjord,” said Caleb, speaking for the first time since Essek’s arrival. “Check for eavesdroppers.”

Fjord obeyed, summoning the Star Razor and glancing about the room before giving an ‘all clear’ thumbs up.

Jester dropped her hands, finished with the spell. Beau felt the wave of magical energy wash over her, that tingling feeling that started in her fingertips and worked its way deeper, but she managed to push it out before the magic reached her tongue and bound it to the truth.

“He didn’t resist it. He let me do it.” Jester smiled at Essek, and he managed a tiny grin back.

“Have you broken any more laws since we saw you last?” Veth jumped in immediately. No use wasting time; the spell wouldn’t last forever.

“Technically, I am breaking the law every moment I do not turn myself in to the Bright Queen for execution. But aside from that, no.”

“What were the loose ends you talked about, back on the ship?” Beau demanded.

“Mostly just double-checking that all my tracks were properly covered,” Essek answered. He smoothed his hands over his robes, gaze flitting about the group. Obvious tells, or so Beau would have thought if Jester hadn’t confirmed that the spell worked. “They are still looking into the break-in that occurred,” he continued, “so I’ve been keeping an eye on that. And there was a short-lived theory growing among some of the dens that Taskhand Adeen could not have acted alone in the theft of the beacons, that he must have had an accomplice. Since I was his primary interrogator, I was able to put that rumor to bed. It wouldn’t do to have anyone relaunching an investigation into the matter. I also spent some time strengthening the wards around my home, as a precaution. Those have been my main occupations since we last spoke.”

“Have you heard from anyone in the Assembly yet?” Caleb asked. Essek shook his head.

“I don’t expect to for a while. They know it is best that I lay as low as possible, for the time being.” 

“You will tell us as soon as you hear from them, _ja_? Any communication at all, I want to know about.”

Essek nodded his agreement, a little more sheepish this time.

Caleb turned to Jester, seemingly satisfied with the questions and answers so far.

“Anything else we need to ask?” He opened it to the group at large.

Jester grinned widely.

“Are you secretly in love with me?” she giggled, and Beau’s heart instinctively vaulted around her chest, only calming down to a rapid pounding when she reminded herself that the question was meant for Essek. She didn’t have to answer. Also the spell hadn’t worked on her, not that she was very good at lying to Jester either way.

Essek smiled. There was something more to the look than his signature detached amusement, something soft and indulgent. Fond. He let out a deep breath before answering, inclining his head towards Jester.

“I would like to think that I have made it no secret that I care for you, Jester. But in the way that you mean, no, I am not. As incessantly charming as you are.”

 _You’re not the one you should be asking him about, Jester._ Curious, Beau glanced to catch Caleb’s reaction, but he was keeping his expression resolutely blank. 

Jester laughed, pleased with her joke, and an idea occurred to Beau that almost caused her to burst out laughing as well. 

Instead she looked at Essek, still smiling and seeming so comfortable now, so at home with them all now that the interrogation was over and they were back to casualness and teasing.

It wasn’t over though. Beau might not be able to think of any further pressing questions for him about the war or the Beacons, but she still had a good use for the truth spell. Jester hadn’t dropped it, probably wouldn’t, letting it hang out for the full duration instead. More fun that way.

Beau voiced her query in Undercommon. A small show of mercy to let Essek keep some sliver of pride, and also insurance that his answer would retain its potency as potential blackmail.

“Are you in love with Caleb?”

The simple question felt clumsy in her mouth. Beau had studied Undercommon to fluency in reading and listening, but she hadn’t had much opportunity to practice actually speaking the language. Still, judging by the way Essek’s eyes grew round and panicked, her pronunciation was good enough to be understood.

Essek’s stuttering was even clumsier as he bumbled to cover his shock. His face paled, as much as the dark skin could, and Beau knew he was realizing she’d got him. Staying silent was as good as confirmation, and so was his awkward blubbering. 

Beau grinned at his slack-jawed glare. For once, finally, she had the upper hand with him, and they both knew it. It was a good feeling.

The others were all looking at her quizzically. 

“What did you say?” Fjord asked. “What did you ask him?”

“Oh, nothing,” Beau said breezily, basking in the silent plea Essek shot her. “S’not important.”

Fjord, Caleb, and Veth all continued to stare at her in confusion and suspicion, but none of them probed further. Probably they would wait for the chance to ask her alone, or at least when Essek wasn’t around.

She’d have to think about what to say to them, especially if Caleb got to her first. Much as she didn’t want to admit it, Beau had some sympathy for Essek’s plight. This was information best handled delicately. Also, it was no good as blackmail if she revealed it right away.

Jester was talking again, abusing the power of her truth spell as only she could. From the sound of it, everyone but Veth and Yasha had managed to shrug off her magic, so she bounced questions between the two of them. Beau listened with fascination to the response to “Did you think Vilya was hot?” and tuned out hard at “So did that rhino sex potion actually work or what?”

The evening devolved from there. Essek interjected awkwardly to show that he’d brought wine with him again, and that was pretty much the beginning of the end to any productive discussion.

Beau made good use of Veth’s endless flask—now _her_ endless flask—as they drank and talked and laughed, so she was more than a little out of it when Essek sidled up next to her later on, a bit apart from the others.

“Could I speak with you for a moment, Beauregard? In private?”

“You’re not floating,” said Beau.

“I’m sorry?”

“You were floating when you got here, but now…” she waved a hand towards the floor. At some point he’d removed his mantle and cloak, so it was plain to see his feet standing firmly on the ground.

“Um, yes. You said once that I shouldn’t, ah, feel the need to do so, around you all.”

“Mm-hmm. I remember. That was before we knew you were a war criminal.”

That sounded harsher than she’d meant it to, so she threw in a wink to balance it out.

“Right, um. Shall we?” he motioned towards the door leading into the kitchen. Beau nodded. The world seemed to move up and down with her when she did.

“Yeah. Talking. I know.” She walked forward. The doorway was a lot narrower than it looked from farther away, but she sidestepped neatly to avoid smacking face-first into the wall.

From behind her, she heard a deep sigh.

Beau led the way into the kitchen, letting the door swing shut behind them, muffling the soft melody of Yasha’s harp and the plunking beat of Jester’s spiritual piano. It really sucked that Cad had given away his bone flute. Or maybe it was better this way. Beau would decide in the morning.

“So,” she began, leaning up against the counter to look cool and intimidating and not at all because the room was starting to spin. “I think I know what you want to talk about.”

Even with her swirling vision, Beau could see Essek deflate. There was a brief moment of him standing straight and haughty and Shadowhand-y, clearly trying to project confidence and maybe even intimidate Beau a little bit, but the facade caved with barely a poke.

“Please don’t say anything to him.” Gods, but he sounded so pathetic. It almost made Beau feel bad for the whole thing, but then her drunken mind conjured up an image of that same defeated face handing a priceless artefact full of souls over to the likes of Trent Ikithon, and she didn’t feel so guilty.

Still, certain principles had to be maintained. 

“Ok. I won’t say anything.”

Essek blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah, dude.”

“You are not going to demand something from me in exchange?”

“Not right now,” Beau shrugged. “Maybe someday I’ll need to ‘call the favor back in.’” 

Her Essek impression landed way far off the mark, but he seemed to catch the reference anyway.

“Fair enough, I suppose.”

They stood in silence for a while after that. Or, at least, it seemed like a while to Beau.

“It isn’t… it’s not what you think.”

“What isn’t?” Tired of standing all of a sudden, Beau pushed off the counter to flop down in one of the wooden chairs at the dining table. Essek followed her the few paces across the room, but stayed on his feet.

“Caleb—” Essek cut himself off, pursing his lips. “My feelings are not… I don’t _do_ this.” 

He was sounding more frustrated by the second, and Beau’s drunk brain was having an especially hard time following the nonsense.

“You don’t what, have feelings? Look, I’ve been there, dude. You think you can bottle it all up, but then—”

“That is not what I meant. I mean,” Essek hung his head back like he was asking the ceiling for strength, “ _yes_ , you are correct, but that is not what I was referring to in this instance.”

“So what are you referring to? Use small words, if you don’t mind. I’m not at my most comprehending.”

“You don’t say,” Essek mumbled, but Beau still caught it and glared at him.

“What I mean is: I have no interest in romance. I have never wanted to share my life with someone in that way. It never seemed remotely appealing to me. But now, with him…” he trailed off, looking pained, and even in her current state Beau was starting to pick up on the thread.

“Are you trying to tell me you’ve ‘never felt this way before?’” she snorted. She couldn’t help it.

“I suppose?” Essek didn’t seem to get why it was funny. Or he was so worked up over this whole Caleb thing that humor couldn’t register. “But my point is, when you asked me if I loved him, the spell wouldn’t let me deny it. But I also could not say yes, because I genuinely have no idea. I don’t know what it is supposed to feel like; I have never even really had _friends_ before now. So I have no frame of reference by which to measure if my own feelings fall in the range of the platonic or… otherwise.”

Despite phrasing it in the nerdiest way possible, his words brought a memory to Beau’s mind. She was thirteen, old enough to be out on her own in Kamordah and still young enough that she spent her free time doing legal things. She didn’t have any friends to hang out with, but she had an allowance to spend at the market, and she always went straight to the bakery, where, without fail, she would find the baker’s daughter, Tabitha, manning the counter. They didn’t know each other that well, but she always made a little small talk while she boxed up whatever bread or pastry Beau’d ordered that day. With anyone else, Beau couldn’t stand small talk, but she treasured every “How are you?” and “Lovely weather today” like they were precious gems. Those words would rattle around in her head for hours afterwards, a pretty face and strong hands swimming behind her closed eyes, and she would think to herself, over and over, _Is this the real thing? Is this what it feels like?_

“Look, man,” she said, sobering up a fraction in the face of Essek’s obvious distress. “It doesn’t matter what you have or haven’t felt before. I know you wizards like to overthink things, but trust me, just go with your gut on this. Do what you want, even if you don’t know why you want it.”

Essek frowned, which was not the reaction Beau was looking for. 

“I am not going to ‘do’ anything,” he said, like it should be obvious. 

“Why not?”

He gave her a look like she had grown a second head. “I can’t. The way things are now…” he shook his head. “Even if I thought there was a remote possibility that he… felt similarly,” his voice lowered on those words, eyes flashing to the door, where now it was just the harp sounding through. “It is too much of a risk. I am already putting you all in far too much danger just by being near you.”

Beau’s eyes rolled so far back in her head that it hurt. “You can’t have a fucking martyr complex too, on top of being a war criminal. That’s too many things.”

“Strictly speaking, it isn't a war crime if the act was committed in a time of peace. War was declared _after_ I stole the Beacons. Ergo, not a war criminal.”

Beau leveled her best, dead-eyed stare at him. “Does it really fucking matter?”

“I suppose not,” Essek muttered, looking chastened. “I just thought I’d point it out, in the interest of accuracy.”

“Ok then, back to the point, War Crimes McTreason: we put ourselves in danger every fucking day. Like half of us have died at this point. Peace talks or not, I’m willing to bet we’re on the Assembly’s shit list, and even if we’re not yet, it’s only a matter of time. Whatever target you have on your back, we do too. Maybe it’s a slightly smaller target, but you’re still not going to infect Caleb with risk if you fuck him, or whatever it is you’re worried about.”

Essek wrinkled his nose. “As long as we are being frank—again, just in the interest of accuracy—my inclinations do not include… such activities, either. I don’t particularly enjoy the idea.”

In the back of her mind, Beau made a resolution: get the fancy boy to say ‘fuck.’ Or even just ‘sex.’ They could start with ‘sex’ and work their way up to cursing.

“That’s cool, man,” she said. She’d known a couple of people with similar disinterest at the Cobalt Soul. It made sense, even if she couldn’t relate in the slightest. “Holding his hand, then. My point still stands.”

Essek exhaled sharply through his nose. “You don’t understand.”

“Oh, I think I understand perfectly,” Beau groaned. She couldn’t believe where she was right now, giving relationship counseling to a guy who was their friend but also their enemy and in a freaky way sort of their morality pet project. But she was the drunkest she’d been in weeks, maybe months, and in a weird mental space between relief coming off of TravelerCon and trepidation for what came next, and now Jester’s warbling voice was filtering through the door, singing along discordantly to the soulful notes of Yasha’s harp, and Beau’s mushy brain was conflating the feeling those two sounds brought out in her with the expression on the lovelorn face standing before her. Commiseration was a hell of a drug.

“Just...” She motioned with both hands at Essek, trying to articulate her point visually, although based on his raised eyebrow her flailing wasn’t any clearer than her words. “Let go of your fucking pride for a second and admit that you’re scared. That’s it. There’s nothing noble about keeping your distance, you’re just fucking scared of making a move. And, like, who fucking isn’t? It’s terrifying!”

She shook her head to rid herself of the memories, but the ghostly press of strong arms lifting her up in flight still sent a shiver down her spine.

“Are you alright, Beauregard?”

“I’m fucking fine,” she snapped. She slapped her cheeks a few times, bringing her scattered mind back to the here and now. Essek drew himself back, looking startled and a little concerned.

“My _point_ is,” Beau huffed, “take it from someone who does have experience in this field— _lots_ of experience. Lying to yourself isn’t going to make this any easier. So either swallow your pride and say something to him, or just accept your new reality as a miserable sack of shit.”

“That… seems harsh.”

“Oh does it, Shadowhand?” A sharp edge crept its way back into Beau’s voice. “Well maybe someone _should_ be harsh with you. Maybe you’ve earned that much from me.”

“I—” Essek closed and opened his mouth, at a loss for how to respond, and Beau soaked up his uncertainty like a cleric’s healing magic. That was all she’d really wanted out of this whole thing: to watch the asshole squirm. To reassure herself that, even after all the lies and manipulation and faulty judgement, he was still just a person, and that no matter what happened down the road, she could handle him the way she handled any other threat. And since Caleb and Jester would probably get mad if she beat him up right now, and Caduceus would be all judgy about it, psychological warfare was the next best thing in her arsenal. 

Would he fight back, if she threw a punch right now? Of course he would. Maybe she’d surprise him enough to get some solid hits in before he could reach his magic components. With a little luck, she could stun him, hold off his defenses for a few extra rounds. But eventually he would break through the stun, and then she would be well and truly fucked. She’d seen Caleb in countless fights, she knew wizards were no joke. Squishy, yes, but dangerous, and Essek was always bragging about how fucking powerful he was and all the dunamagic shit he could do. Beau was pretty damn confident in her abilities, but magic was magic. Probably all it would take was one big spell for him to finish her off, or at least wipe her out long enough to teleport away. 

She was glaring at him, she realized, and he was looking back like he thought she really might hit him.

“So? Are you going to talk to him or not?” It was suddenly very important to Beau that she knew. She wasn’t overly invested in the outcome, but she had to know what Essek was going to do.

“I don’t know. Probably not.”

Why was that disappointing to her?

“It just doesn’t seem worth it,” Essek continued. “To make yourself so vulnerable for nothing.”

“It might not be for nothing, though,” said Beau, her voice quieter now than before.

“Really? You think he would have me, after everything?” Essek’s tone was sardonic, but Beau could detect the faintest hint of hope behind his words.

Did she think so? Caleb was about as cagey with his feelings as a person could be. Beau liked to think she was a decent hand at reading people, but she was no Caduceus. The whole group had picked up on Caleb and Essek’s weird nerd sexual tension, but if the Zone of Truth were reversed, Beau wouldn’t be nearly as certain of what Caleb’s answer to the question would be. Honestly, she still wasn’t convinced Caleb’s feelings towards Veth were entirely platonic, but that was a whole other can of worms. And who’s to say you can’t have feelings for more than one person at a time, right?

A vindictive part of her wanted to lie—to say that she was sure, maybe even go so far as to say that Caleb had told her so himself. Set Essek up for failure, so he could look half the fool he had made them.

Beau pushed the images of blue horns and white wings out of her mind. She already knew she couldn’t be so cruel—one miserable, pining asshole to another.

“It’s complicated, I’ll grant you that,” she said. Her head was starting to pound as she sobered up, but the flask was out of reach back in the other room. She let out a moan, rubbing her temples.

“Thank you, Beauregard,” Essek spoke out of the blue. Beau shot her bleary head up to show him her confusion.

“For what?” she barked.

“For promising not to say anything to Caleb. I appreciate it.” He said it like a reminder, and Beau got the hint.

“You’re welcome,” she grumbled, and mostly meant it. For now, she had no plans to spill Essek’s secret, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t lord it over his head. And if the time came that it actually was useful to tell Caleb, then she wouldn’t feel all that bad breaking her word. It was Essek. He had it coming.

The door to the kitchen burst open, causing both of them to jump in surprise. Standing in the doorway was Veth, the others in the background behind her, gazes drawn by the commotion.

“There you are,” she said. “We thought maybe you’d gone off to strangle each other.”

“Not so,” said Essek.

Jester peered her head around the doorframe.

“You guys having fun in here?” she snickered, wiggling her eyebrows. Even without alcohol, her cheeks were tinged purple with cheer.

“Just talking.” It came out a little bit garbled. Beau cleared her throat. “Nothing important.”

“It is getting rather late,” Caleb called from his seat on the other side of the room. “We were thinking it might be time to call it a night, and continue planning our next move in the morning.”

“I will be on my way then.” Essek straightened up and moved towards the door. Veth stepped aside to let him through.

“Do you want to stay here for the night, Essek? You’re pretty drunk,” Jester offered. Essek shook his head, with the briefest glance back at Beau.

“I’m alright. It is an easy walk home. I suppose I will see you all… soon?” He sounded uncertain, apprehensive for the answer. There was a round of noncommittal agreement, nodding and humming. 

“Alright then. Thank you for the evening.” He nodded around to them.

“Goodnight. Thanks for the wine,” Yasha called, lifting up the long-empty bottle.

“You are very welcome,” he said, gathering his cloak and mantle from where they were draped over a chair and placing them back around his shoulders. With just a twitch of movement, barely perceptible underneath his cloak, he lifted a few inches off the ground. He paused a moment, as if waiting to see if anyone would say more—maybe to see if one of them might invite themselves to walk him home again, like last time. But no one said anything, and with one last wave goodbye from Jester, Essek showed himself out of the Xhorhaus.

Veth sighed as the door clicked shut. “What are we going to do about him?” she wondered aloud.

“We will keep an eye on him,” said Caleb. “That is all we can do.”

Later on, after everything was cleaned up and everyone about ninety percent sober, Beau was just mounting the stairs to turn in when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Whirling around, she found herself face-to-face with Yasha. Eye-to-eye, actually, as Beau was two stairs up already and therefore level with Yasha’s significant height.

“You know I speak Undercommon, right?” she said, tone even and casual. It took Beau a full six seconds to put together what she meant.

“Oh, right. Yeah.” She did know that. The whole reason she’d picked it up was because Yasha was the only one of them who understood it, and then she was gone and they hadn’t known when or if they would get her back, so Beau decided someone might as well learn the national language of the country they were fucking living in. 

But she hadn’t really remembered that fact when she came up with her little duplicity.

She should probably feel worse to learn that she’d unintentionally exposed Essek to another person. She felt a little bad, but like, only a little.

“So, that’s what you two were talking about, right? When you snuck away?”

“Uh, yeah. He asked me not to say anything.” Hopefully, Yasha got the implicit hint.

Yasha nodded in understanding, and Beau let out a tiny huff of relief.

“Is he going to say something, though? To Caleb, I mean?”

Beau cocked her head, surprised by the interest. She wouldn’t have pegged Yasha for a gossip, but that woman had layers. Beau was learning new things about her all the time.

“Nope. I don’t think so, at least. He seems pretty determined to be miserable about it.”

Yasha hummed, looking thoughtful. “I hope he does say something.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. It’s best to be honest about that kind of thing, I think. Even if it’s hard to get it out, it’s better in the long run. And you never know what might happen, you know?”

When had Beau’s heart started thudding so loudly?”

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

Somehow, Beau hadn’t registered that Yasha’s hand had remained on her shoulder this whole time. She realized now, only when Yasha removed it to pat her arm. Her palm was calloused, but gentle.

“Goodnight, Beau,” she said, and slipped past to climb up the stairs toward her bedroom.

“Goodnight, Yasha,” Beau managed to whisper, just as the creak of footsteps disappeared out of earshot.

**Author's Note:**

> I realized while fact checking that I misremembered and Yasha speaks Abyssal, not Undercommon. But that would ruin the whole ending so we're pretending this takes place in an alternate reality where just that one fact is different.


End file.
